


The world could be ours’ tonight

by TheBoyThatWasKissedByFire



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: F/M, Female Jon Snow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-21
Updated: 2019-11-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 22:20:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21516418
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheBoyThatWasKissedByFire/pseuds/TheBoyThatWasKissedByFire
Summary: based upon one of the wonderful yellowrabbits prompts; Varys plots to marry Aegon to his half-sister to secure the North. Too bad she’s already married. OR Aegon expects a Targaryen marriage with his sister but Robb Stark refuses to let go of his wife.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Robb Stark
Comments: 7
Kudos: 247





	The world could be ours’ tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [yellowrabbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/yellowrabbit/gifts).



Lyarra sat in a wooden chair opposite her half-brother who stared at her with those large, pleading purple eyes.

“For the fifteenth time Egg.” She said, her tone tired and wary. “I am not leaving my husband for you. Imagine the consequences. Remember Robert’s rebellion. When my idiot mother ran off with our equally idiotic father that caused a war that killed thousands?”

He furrowed his brows. The criticism of their late father seemed to cut something deep inside him. “You can’t talk about our father that way.” He replied curtly, his lips thin. “He’s the reason that we are both sitting here talking at this very moment.”

They continued to sit in silence. Eyeing each-other in a secret contest to see who would break first. Egg was in his black Targaryen armour with the three headed dragon embedded in his breast plate with rubies as red as blood. His skin was burnt a golden brown by both the Essosi sun and his Dornish heritage and his silver gold hair, more silver then gold, had reached his shoulders. She could also spot a little stubble growing on his upper lip and chin. He’d grown quite nicely since the awkward, lanky boy she’d first met a lifetime ago.

Nevertheless, it didn’t change the fact that he was sitting in her castle, asking her to forsake her vows and her honour and her marriage for a cause she definitely didn’t believe in. His lips formed a petulant pout. If she were anyone else, she would’ve found him irresistible, but it just reminded her of Joffrey. It had enraged her even more.

Lyarra quickly got up, her chair screeching behind her and her pale cobalt summer dress dragging across the floor as she stalked towards her brother. He looked genuinely alarmed. That gave her some satisfaction.  
“I’m not some vapid maiden you can just serenade and steal away whenever you fancy.” She spoke, trying to keep her voice as firm as possible. “I am a wife, a queen and soon…a mother.”

She caressed her hand over her slightly swollen belly. She gazed upon his visage. His amethyst eyes had widened in shock and his mailed hands grasped the arms of the chair so tight she’d thought it would splinter. It made her grin.

“Visenya…y-you are with child…the traitor’s child?!” He sputtered in disbelief. 

Lya simply nodded.

“Have you gone mad, woman? Where do your loyalties lie? Your true family or some up-jumped northern barbaria-”

She’d smacked him before he could finish. It sent him hurtling backwards, his back hitting the wall. A dozen rubies fell from his armour and scattered onto the floor like drops of blood.

“My loyalties lie with my husband and my king, dear brother.” Lya growled. She loomed over him now, her expression cold and loveless. It sent a tinge of fear into his expression as he struggled to get up onto his feet. 

“Now leave, before I summon ghost, or better yet, Robb.” 

He glared at her for a while, his purple eyes seething with so much hatred and rage she’d thought he would pounce upon her. But instead, he swiftly left the room, muttering curses and violent and bloody promises in high Valyrian. Lyarra listened to his footsteps as he ambled through the corridor and out of that particular wing of the castle until they completely disappeared.

She sighed, sitting back in her weirwood chair whilst stroking the wrinkles out of her gown. Nothing had seemed to deter him, not even the fact that she was already married. He had grown more and more like their mad and incredibly stupid father as of late then she’d care to admit, unfortunately. Going after betrothed or married women seemed to become a trend amongst the males of the Targaryen house.

As quiet as a mouse, Ghost padded into her room and rested his giant head on her lap, his emotive red eyes gazing up at her earnestly, as if he understood her inner turmoil. She combed her fingers through his soft, snow white fur.  
“Sorry, boy. The bad man is gone now.” She gave a light-hearted chuckle as he licked her ringed hand in response.

Soon he was joined by her husband’s dire-wolf Grey wind, who rested his head adjacent to his brother’s. Giggling, she stroked his smoky grey fur that gleamed silver in the fire light. Robb had named him well, no doubt.

“What is it, love?” The familiar voice of her husband rung through the room. It brought a smile to her face for the third time that day.

“Just my idiot brother trying to steal me away from you again.” She replied nonchalantly. “Don’t fret, I told him that I was spoken for and that he could fuck off back to King’s Landing.”

King Robb grinned impishly at his wife’s, no, his queen’s use of course language and rushed by her side to give her a long, sensual kiss. Once they separated, they gazed deeply into each-other’s eyes, Clear, summer blue boring into grey-lilac. Robb looked regal. A black iron crown lay among his vibrant red-brown curls like the kings of winter of old and as he grew into his manhood, his features had become more angular and refined, a far cry from the soft and slightly pudgy boy she knew from her youth.

She had loved him with all heart, and nothing, not even Aegon, as handsome as he was, could pull them apart. They lived in the moment, their forms bathed in light as they snuggled closer for warmth.

After a while had passed, he pressed his hand to her abdomen, staring down in awe at the new life they had created growing inside of her.  
“So, what have you planned on naming him?” He asked wondrously.

“Eddard. Prince Eddard Stark.”


End file.
